Chancellor's Parashah Commentary

Parashat Yitro 5757
Exodus 18:1-20:24
February 1, 1997 24 Shvat 5757

Ismar Schorsch is the chancellor of The Jewish Theological Seminary.

The permanent exhibition of the Diaspora Museum in Tel Aviv
begins with a replica of the relief from the Arch of Titus
depicting Jewish prisoners bearing Temple artifacts (a large
seven-branched menorah, for example) into exile. Nearby a
piece of signage unfurls the Museum's conception of Jewish
history: "This is the story of a people which was scattered
over all the world and yet remained a single family; a nation
which time and again was doomed to destruction and yet out
of ruins, rose to new life." These stirring words attest to an
unbroken national will to live. Exile did not end Jewish history
nor fragment Jewish unity. Shared consciousness made up
for the lack of proximity.

This same lofty affirmation of Jewish unity is voiced in the
synagogue every time we recite the prayer for the advent of
a new month, as we do this Shabbat for Adar One (this being
a leap year). Essentially, the prayer asks God to favor us
individually and nationally during the coming month. The first
and longer section contains a list of petitions for our personal
well-being, both physical and spiritual; the second, a short
plea for national redemption.

It is the emphatic closure of the second section which echoes
the unshaken faith in Jewish unity asserted by the Diaspora
Museum: "May the One who wrought miracles for our
ancestors, taking them from slavery to freedom, soon redeem
us, gathering our dispersed kin from the four corners of the
earth. For all Israel is one fellowship." In other words, our
separation and dispersion have failed to erode or fracture the
shared identity of the Jewish people. Liturgically, the
congregation breaks into song with the last three words,
"Haverim kol yisrael," because staying together against
such odds is a matter of pride, exaltation and thankfulness.

In truth, however, these two declarations about Jewish unity,
one secular in origin, the other religious, are little more than a
pious assumption. The reality of Jewish existence is less
uplifting. An early midrash on our parasha betrays a darker
truth. As so often, a light linguistic rub in the text of the
Torah prompts a far-reaching interpretive comment. Three
months after fleeing Egypt, the Israelites arrived at Mount
Sinai: "Having journeyed from Rephidim, they entered the
wilderness of Sinai and encamped in the wilderness. Israel
encamped there in front of the mountain (Exodus 19:2)." Lost
in the translation is the fact that though the verb "encamped"
appears twice in this verse, the first time it is plural in form
while the second singular (even though the subject remains
the same). The midrash, as paraphrased by Rashi, notes the
sudden shift from plural to singular and throws the following
bombshell: "The singular verb form suggests that the entire
nation encamped at Sinai like one man with one heart. All the
many other encampments of Israel in the wilderness, however,
were marked by complaining and controversy."

Hence, unity is not the normal state of affairs for the people
of Israel. Indeed, it is an experience about as rare as the
revelation at Sinai. Gathered to receive their divine mandate,
the culmination of the exodus ordeal, the Israelites attain a
moment of complete harmony and concord, among
themselves, with Moses and with God. The singular verb is
not a slip by a careless scribe, but the overt indicator of an
inner transformation. Authored not long after three futile
Jewish uprisings against Roman rule in the years 66, 115 and
132, this melancholy midrash hints at the pervasive inner
divisions of Jewish society in Palestine during the turbulent
three centuries from the Maccabees to Bar Kochba.

But the midrash also accords with the biblical narrative.
Neither divine miracles without number nor Mosaic leadership
are enough to impose a semblance of lasting unity on
Pharaoh's former slaves. The pattern of interminable grousing
is established early and persists. Although the Torah insists
that the miraculous deliverance at the Sea of Reeds had
imbued the people with a deep faith in both God and Moses
(Exodus 14:31), how quickly did they revert to their habit of
rejecting Moses's leadership at every instance of hardship!
The Song at the Sea is followed by three quick instances of
bitter disgruntlement.

Against this fractious background, the revelation at Sinai is, as
the midrash sensed, a singular exception, embraced with
alacrity and unanimity. In the public ceremony ratifying the
covenant, the people obligate themselves with one indivisible
voice: "All that the Lord has spoken we will faithfully do
(Exodus 24:7)." But again, as subsequent episodes like the
Golden Calf attest, the upsurge of faith and unity is short-lived.
Later, civil war would often mar the period of the
Judges and the First Temple.

Yet surely the covenant, which rendered Israel a kingdom of
priests and a holy nation, implied the ideal of national unity.
At minha on Shabbat in the amidah, we declare resonantly:
"You are One, Your name is One and who is like Your people
Israel, one throughout the world?" The threefold repetition of
the word "one" underscores what God and Israel share in
common. The unity and uniqueness of each enhances and
reinforces the other. A fractured Israel brings no glory to God.
Nor does a "saving remnant." The world is cluttered with
"saving remnants," the fossil remains of once- vibrant religious
or national communities. There is no chosenness without
unity.

And the key to unity, for the Rabbis, is a healthy respect for
diversity. A remarkable midrash depicts sages gathered in
disputatious study of Torah with little consensus on any issue.
Nevertheless, the midrash confidently asserts that the panoply
of opinions derive from God, because the Torah states: "God
spoke all these words (Exodus 20:1)," with the emphasis on
"all." God's revelation abounds with a multiplicity of meanings.
The wisdom of this midrash is to define membership in the
Jewish people not creedally or behaviorally but in terms of a
relationship. As long as one is engaged in the study of Torah,
one is a member of God's chosen people.